


Remnants

by MollyC



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2014, 5.04 The End, Angst, M/M, Past Dean/Castiel - Freeform, Sex, offscreen canon death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2690813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MollyC/pseuds/MollyC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what's left</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remnants

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "eat your heart out" at salt_burn_porn on LJ.

They talked about it exactly once.  Dean wanted to know what it had been like when Cas had asked, expecting an eyeroll and a recounting of a very awkward conversation, probably including the word “fornication” because that was just how Cas rolled.

Instead, Jimmy looked puzzled and said, “He didn’t ask.”

“What?  Dude—”

And _there_ was the eyeroll.  “He didn’t _have_ to ask, Dean, it...look, Castiel knows me better than I know myself, OK?”  Jimmy, still, always used the present tense.  “He knows what I said when I held Claire the first time.  How I met Amelia.  He knows about my cousin Alex, we always called each other Yasha and Sasha because we thought Russian nicknames were cool.  He sure as hell knows what I agreed to when I took him.  I didn’t put conditions on what he could use my body for.  No matter how much I hated him, it wasn’t for that.”  He paused, and when he spoke again his voice was almost rough enough to be _right_.  “God, I miss him.”

* * *

The problem was finding people who were competent enough to be useful, especially since they had civilians.  Jimmy at least could hit a target four times out of five, which was more than you could say for Chuck; after a while Dean had to stop taking refugees because he couldn’t afford to protect people who couldn’t help protect themselves.

* * *

When they got back from the salvage yard Dean deliberately didn’t look around.  “Get the books to Chuck,” he told Amanda, like she needed to be told, and headed for the showerhouse.

Halfway there he heard footsteps behind him, didn’t even need to look to know they were Jimmy’s.  He wasn’t surprised, but _fuck_ he was tired.

“Where’s Bobby?” the other man demanded.  It was kind of weird how Jimmy and Bobby—how Jimmy was the only one who used that tone of voice with him anymore.

“Looters,” Dean said without slowing.  “Five of them.  The rest of us were out in the garage, they caught him in the house.”

Jimmy faltered and Dean got a couple of steps on him, forcing him to jog to catch up.  “What do you mean?”

Dean shrugged.

“You mean he’s dead,” Jimmy said, like it was a revelation.  “Bobby’s dead.”

“Welcome to the Apocalypse,” Dean said.

“Shit,” said Jimmy, and stopped walking.  Dean left him behind.

* * *

He’d given up pretending to try to sleep by the time his cabin door swung open with the creak he deliberately never fixed.  Dean looked up from his seat at the end of the table and his breath caught in his throat.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Jesus, I didn’t know you still had that coat,” Dean said, when he could breathe again.

“It was mine first,” Jimmy told him.

“What the hell?”

“I thought it might help with this.”  Jimmy crossed the floor in a few quick strides, moving like Cas when he had a target, and Dean was so dumbfounded he just sat there as Jimmy bent, bracing one hand on the table for balance, and kissed him.  It wasn’t gentle.

Cas had always tasted like ozone, even right before the end; Jimmy tasted like a guy.  Dean found he didn’t care.  He let go of his glass of bourbon to catch Jimmy’s arm, feeling the hard muscle under his grip; Jimmy’s aim was only so-so but the guy was in good shape, always had been, and he and Amanda trying to kill each other sparring was one of the camp's few reliable sources of entertainment.  He was good with a knife, too.  Dean tried not to think about that.

Dean pulled back and Jimmy let him.  “You sure about this?”

Jimmy snorted at him in exasperation that had become almost as familiar as Sam’s.  “Fuck you, Dean.  It’s the zombie apocalypse out there.  This morning I had two friends, tonight I have one.  I lost my family for an angel and then I lost the angel.  I’m _sure_.”  His eyes were Cas’s eyes, blue and burning, even though they’d been Jimmy’s first just like the trenchcoat.

“Just checking,” Dean said, and surged up out of the chair.  For all Jimmy was good at hand-to-hand, he didn’t have a hunter’s reflexes yet; Dean didn’t know if he’d live long enough to develop them.  It was easy to get control of the clinch while Jimmy was startled and Dean forced them over to the wall and pinned the other man against it.  He shoved at the coat, muttering, “Get this damn thing off.”

“I like it,” Jimmy said, muffled against the side of Dean’s neck.  He bit, just hard enough to sting.  “Anyway I know you’d rather have him.”

“Take it _off_ ,” Dean insisted.  Jimmy wasn’t wearing the suit, at least, and Dean popped the button of his pants—no belt, that made it easier, and he had a feeling Jimmy had dressed with ease in mind, a feeling that was confirmed when he yanked down the zipper.  “Didn’t your priest ever tell you going commando is a sin?”

“Presbyterians don’t have priests,” Jimmy said.  “Come on, are we doing this or not?”

“Forty-five seconds ago I was drinking alone, dude, I dunno what else you want.”  Dean grabbed for Jimmy’s upper arms and yanked him bodily through the door to his bedroom.  “Off.  All of it,” he said, shoving Jimmy away to get enough space to take his shirt off.  By the time his tee came over his head the coat had hit the floor and Jimmy had his pants to his knees.  He’d even worn slip-on shoes, Jesus.

The pause while Dean got his boots off didn’t do much to clear his head.  Jimmy, sitting naked on the bed and watching him, didn’t help at all, and by the time Dean yanked his jeans down he was hard.  He kicked his foot free on the way to the bed—it wasn’t wide, but he and Cas had always managed—and bore Jimmy down flat with his weight.

“You always on top?” Jimmy asked against Dean’s lips.  “Is this how you used to do it?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dean said.  “He’s not here.”

Dean had never heard such a bitter laugh in Cas’s voice before.  “I know that better than you.”

“Then _shut up_ ,” Dean said, and cut off Jimmy’s reply by wrapping a hand around his dick.  Cas had always been kind of wet and it looked like that was Jimmy too, because there was enough lubrication that his fingers could slide smoothly.  Jimmy arched into his hand.

“Dean, Dean, come on,” Jimmy said.  Dean slid down the other man’s body and laid his arm across his hips.  “Are you—” Jimmy started, and cut off into a sound that was all inhale as Dean closed his lips around his dick.

The weight of it on his tongue was familiar, and Dean tried to push down the feeling that Jimmy had stolen his own body—Cas had been the thief, if anyone had, because having to ask didn't make them better, the angels were just as much thieves as demons.  

The sensitive spots were all the same.  Dean tried not to be creeped out by that.  He kept Jimmy from fucking his mouth with his arm and covered the base of his dick with the other hand and licked in broad, flat strokes that made Jimmy squirm and swear.  He swore a lot, actually, and at least that was different; Cas hadn’t been much for talking, beyond Dean’s name.  

He knew the signs and when Jimmy went quiet, tense as a wire, Dean pulled off.  It took a few seconds for Jimmy to force his eyes open and when he did he glared.  “Dean, what the fuck?”

Dean smiled at him, full of heat and promise, and leaned down to suck just the head into his mouth.  Jimmy’s eyes fluttered and his head dropped back.  “This isn’t fucking funny,” Jimmy said indistinctly.

“I think it’s hilarious,” Dean said, and leaned forward all in a rush till Jimmy’s dick hit the back of his throat, wringing out a shout that the gate guards could probably hear.  Dean worked his tongue, swallowed deliberately, and Jimmy wailed “ _Dean!_ ” as he came.  Dean stayed exactly where he was through it, until Jimmy started to twitch under his hands, oversensitive.  It took a couple of minutes for the other man’s breathing to even out.

The first thing Jimmy said was, “I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that you know what you’re doing.”  He hauled his eyes open and looked at Dean, propped on one elbow beside him.  Dean’s lips twisted.  

“I told you he’s not here.  Besides, I had a lot of practice when I was a teenager.”

Jimmy blinked and cocked his head a little and Dean fought down a pang.  “Seriously?”

“Sam had to eat,” Dean said, shrugging.  “Found out when I was sixteen I couldn’t afford to get caught stealing.”

“So you thought you’d risk getting caught hooking.”

“It paid better.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes.  “You are so fucked up.”

Dean shrugged again.  Halfway through it Jimmy rolled onto his side and pushed Dean down.  “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said, a casual warning.

“Don’t care,” Dean replied, as Jimmy’s hand snaked down between them, not lying in the least. It was a hand that wasn’t his own and there was no way a good churchgoing boy like Jimmy Novak actually lacked practice at jerking off.  Dean closed his eyes and wrapped one arm around Jimmy’s shoulders and buried his face in the other man’s neck, and if the name he gritted out when he came wasn’t the right one, Jimmy didn’t mention it afterwards.

* * *

When he was dressed, Jimmy picked up the trenchcoat and held it between his hands for a long moment.  Dean, clean and with his boxers back on, watched him from the door to the tiny bathroom.  “What?”

Slowly, Jimmy said, “Maybe you should keep this.”  He extended it, still in both hands like an offering, and Dean reached out.  He stopped before his fingers quite touched the tan fabric.

“It was yours first,” he said.  He didn’t look up.

“Dean, you have to know he—”

“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” Dean said.

Jimmy didn’t reply.  The silence stretched between them for a long time.

“You have gate duty tomorrow,” Dean said at last.  “Get some sleep.”

“Yes sir, oh fearless leader,” Jimmy said, but it wasn’t sharp.  

He walked out with the trenchcoat over his arm.  Dean went back to his bed and lay down in it, but it was a long time before he bothered to close his eyes.


End file.
